


End of the World

by PersonyPepper



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Guns, Husbands, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Sad Ending, Sad and Happy, Smoking, Suicide, first chapter can be read as stand alone! second one has MCD, rather than become zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonyPepper/pseuds/PersonyPepper
Summary: “The last pack of cigarettes isn’t the end of the world, Jaskier.” Geralt’s deep voice is rougher with the smoke, “Think the end of the world started when people stopped dying.”Jaskier shrugs, strumming over his guitar with feather-light touches, instinct making him quiet when he’d been so, so loud before. He longs for that world, when touch was free, and walking down the road– all your have to worry about was being mugged. Or better yet, all you had to worry about was dying.Or, Jaskier and Geralt are the only ones left in a world undead.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

“The world’s ending tomorrow.” Geralt hums, passing the cigarette over to Jaskier; they’d ran out of weed months ago, having no luck at finding more. Even the half-deads have gone from the area, finding no more humans to much on, the last two safely hidden in the basement of old man Victor’s place, just a building down from the apartment he and Geralt shared. Well, used to share, before all this zombie business had come about.

“The last pack of cigarettes isn’t the end of the world, Jaskier.” Geralt’s deep voice is rougher with the smoke, “Think the end of the world started when people stopped dying.”

Jaskier shrugs, strumming over his guitar with feather-light touches, instinct making him quiet when he’d been so, so loud before. He longs for that world, when touch was free, and walking down the road– all your have to worry about was being mugged. Or better yet, all you had to worry about was dying.

Melitele has taken away even that small mercy, leaving Death to his vacation and leaving humans half-dead.

Half-dead. That’s what he feels like, even though he’s not quite like the undead folk that roam the street, _literally_ half-dead. He’s better off than them and their mindless craving for humanity meat. Kind of. But hey, at least they don’t have to think about how their lives are fucking gone and all their friends are dead.

Well, at least he has Geralt, Geralt has him, and they both have three cigarettes left between them as well as a beat down lighter. And if course, Jaskier has his beautiful guitar, Trouviel.

Two cigarettes; Geralt lights another.

“Maybe we should go out. Travel.” Geralt snorts, coughing as the smoke escapes into his lungs from the action. Serves him right, bastard. (He prays to Melitele to let him keep him. The only good thing left in their dead world is his smile and dumb laugh, and their stupid rings that they hide on chains around their necks and under their shirts).

“Shut up, I’ve always wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge. We were going to for our third anniversary and you ended up in the hospital because of your broken finger, remember?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow, a smile twitching at his lips. “Pretty sure that was you.” Jaskier splutters, turns red.

“Doesn’t matter, Mister Pankratz-Rivia– you owe me a trip to the Golden Gate Bridge.” Geralt hands the cigarette over. “Come on, it’s in California, only two states away.” He knows what Geralt’s thinking, that they’ll be in danger with the populated cities stuffed to the brim with the half-dead, that they might die, high chance they will actually. It’s either they die in the trip or they die here, in old man Victor’s basement with two cigarettes (and Trouviel) between them.

Geralt grunts, all broody-like, hasn’t changed at all after seven years of knowing him– still that old grump in the back of the Posada Tavern. Jaskier falls in love what that grunt and that hum and those eyes and that laugh– not to mention his tight fucking muscles– all over again, each and every fucking day.

“Fine,” Geralt says at last, fiddling with his ring on his necklace– a nervous habit he’d picked up nearly four years ago, almost as soon as they’d gotten married (Jaskier is impossibly glad that they got married before the world had ended), “Let’s go find Roach.” Their beat up little car can’t be too far away.

They tip toe through a street of rotting flesh, hands intetwined together as tight as Jaskier bites down on his tongue to keep himself shut up. They find Roach, and they head for the Golden State, great California and her gorgeous bridge awaits them as eagerly as they are to see her.

Maybe the world has ended. But he has Geralt, Geralt has him; they have two cigarettes between them, Trouviel, Roach, and a beat-down lighter. And that’s good enough for Jaskier.


	2. Chapter 2

The ring is a comforting band around his finger; Geralt’s hand lays warm in his. Jaskier kicks a leg over his leg, and rocks his foot as they stare up at the endless sky. 

“This is nice.” Geralt hums, and it sounds much more like a purr than it has any right to. Their two cigarettes were long gone to none, and Roach and Trouviel are in a fiery car crash. Jaskier smiles up at the heavens, hating the thought that is a heaven when it isn’t being used in the slightest.

“Not like how I expected, really.” He winces, the bite in his side giving him grief with each swing of his foot, eat beat of Geralt’s heart. And Geralt laughs, that beautiful, stupid laugh of his where he refuses to show teeth but looks like a dork all the same.

“No?” Jaskier huffs, and tucks himself closer to his husband’s side. 

“Definitively not.” Geralt coughs, blood spraying out of his mouth and onto the concrete sidewalk where they lay, watching the clouds under California’s Golden Gates.

Hours pass, and Jaskier’s fingers tingle. The evening passes and the beginnings of contraction set in. He can feel Geralt’s chest twisting from where he lays his head upon it. “It’s nearly sunset.”

“It nearly is.” They sit up, and Jaskier tucks himself into Geralt’s crossed legs, watching the sun set over the water.

“Kiss me?” Geralt’s mouth tastes like day old cigarettes, bad breath, and blood. He doubts his tastes any different. 

Geralt’s palm is warm in his right hand.

“Say it,” Jaskier whispers, “One last time.”

Geralt’s happy; content eyes look down at him, the sun’s reflection making his amber eyes glow gold.

“I love you, Jaskier.” 

The gun is cold in his left. “I love you too, darling,” Jaskier mutters, “I’ll love you forever.”

The bullet is quick to pierce through them both. 


End file.
